


Only the Horses

by Kaydel



Category: Chinese Actor RPF, 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:47:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22989568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaydel/pseuds/Kaydel
Summary: Pressured by his friends, Xiao Zhan asks an ex-colleague out for a date and gets abandoned at a bar. Thank goodness there's a handsome bartender there to rescue him.(It's Yibo. The bartender is Yibo.)
Relationships: Wang Yi Bo/Xiao Zhan
Comments: 54
Kudos: 552
Collections: BJYX Exchange 2020





	Only the Horses

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ElenyasBlood](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElenyasBlood/gifts).



> Hope you enjoy the fic ElenyasBlood.

He’s not sure why he’s even here in the first place. Xiao Zhan looks down at his phone, wishing, _praying_ , for an emergency call or text from a long-lost relative or a friend or colleague or potential client. Or, hell, just a wrong number would be fine too. Anything to stop him from actually having to watch his date for the evening dry hump someone else on the crowded dance floor.

The thing was, Xiao Zhan is pretty sure he’d asked Hong Sheng out for a date _with him_. They were co-workers on Xiao Zhan’s last job, a short stint with a graphic design agency before he’d decided to go freelance, and he’d invited Hong Sheng for dinner to catch up. Hong Sheng is, without exaggerating, gorgeous, and he knows it. He likes to dress in the latest fashions and often boasts about going out to expensive restaurants to spend money that he hasn’t earned yet. His list of conquests must be at least several metres long. Xiao Zhan’s not sure why he decided asking Hong Sheng out seemed like a good idea… in one evening, his pleasant workplace fantasies of finding his next serious relationship have been smashed. He can pinpoint exactly when this happened, too.

They had just finished dinner at a painfully expensive French restaurant (which Xiao Zhan hadn’t liked as much as Hong Sheng seemed to think he should — the food was too fussy and the ambiance too pretentious) when Hong Sheng got a text on his phone. It had been one of over a dozen that had come in all through dinner and Xiao Zhan was getting tired of pretending to entertain himself while Hong Sheng typed replies to each and every one. Not for the first time that night, Xiao Zhan told himself that perhaps a lifetime of evenings spent at home with his cat was preferable to the perils of trying to date again.

“Work?” Xiao Zhan asked, not bothering to hide his boredom now. Apparently each text previously had been a work emergency. Considering he had moved on from the agency because of a lack of jobs coming in, Xiao Zhan found this hard to believe.

“Nah, one of my Blued hookups,” Hong Sheng said, without batting an eyelid. “He’s going to be at White Tiger. Lao Xiao, you want to join us? I’m sure you’ll find someone interesting to talk to there.”

Xiao Zhan had heard of The White Tiger before, mostly from his younger friends who still enjoyed the club scene. It was supposed to be an up-and-coming alternative to the older Beijing gay clubs like Destination and Kai. From what he could make out, it was also a popular cruising spot. However, if they were all going to turn out like Hong Sheng (and, really, Xiao Zhan is going to _kill_ his friend Yu Bin for suggesting he ask the guy out in the first place), he really didn’t see the appeal. One vacuous pretty idiot was as much as he could take tonight.

“I think I’ll head home,” he started, but Hong Sheng had then very conveniently discovered that he’d run out of cash and his payment apps weren’t working.

“Spot me one drink, Lao Xiao! I’ll make it up to you, promise!”

Which is how Xiao Zhan ended up here, sitting at the bar of The White Tiger, trying to ignore all the painfully hip specimens around him who are on the dance floor gyrating to badly produced electronic music. Because apparently he can’t say no to hard luck stories, even when they’re obviously false. He bought Hong Sheng a standard mixer and himself a beer, despite Hong Sheng wanting a severely overpriced cocktail, and has been nursing the beer for the last twenty minutes, glaring at his recalcitrant phone the whole time.

Really, he’s going to go after he finishes the beer. There’s no point hanging around and he’s sure Hong Sheng is more than capable for finding his own way home, considering the way he’s getting intimate with his friend from the dating app in front of the entire club. Xiao Zhan’s got more self-respect than this. He finally swallows the last of his beer and stands up, ready to wave goodbye to his erstwhile date.

“Leaving already?”

Xiao Zhan glances up. The bartender who had originally taken his order isn’t behind the counter anymore, having moved further down the bar. Instead, he’s presented with perhaps the most beautiful man he’s seen in a long, long time. High cheekbones, a wonderfully straight nose that’s like something from a Classical sculpture, and the fullest, plumpest pair of lips, all framed by slightly too-long hair that’s been gathered up into a messy hipster bun. His skin, despite the harsh illumination from the florescent lighting, is flawless and the thin white t-shirt he has on does little to hide the elegant lines of his neck and collarbones.

Oh, God. Xiao Zhan is staring. He can feel the warmth flaming in his face now and thanks whatever gods might be listening that the club’s lighting is garish enough that it shouldn’t be too obvious that he is _blushing like a teenager_. It’s fine. He can handle this. He might not have got laid in the past few months, but he isn’t so desperately hard up for sex that he’s going to start slavering over the first good-looking man who gives him more than a few seconds of attention, no matter how handsome they are.

Right; he almost believes himself.

“You OK?” The bartender asks, leaning closer, and now Xiao Zhan knows that he smells as good as he looks; his scent is a clean, sharp musk. “You’ve only had one drink. Most guys buy at least three or four cocktails. Makes the trip here worth it.”

“Yeah, well.” Xiao Zhan shrugs. It’s natural that an employee here would be interested in selling him drinks more than anything. “I’m not a regular. I only came because of my…uh, friend, but it looks like he’s doing fine without me, so I guess I’ll just… go. Yeah.”

He’s already paid for the beer, so he smiles at the bartender, noting the thick layer of eyeliner around his eyes and the slight gloss on his lips. “I’m good, really. Thanks for asking.”

“You came with that guy?” The bartender asks, jerking his head in Hong Sheng’s direction, “You deserve a drink for putting up with his bullshit. He’s in here every night with someone new.”

Before Xiao Zhan can say anything, the bartender mixes him a gin and tonic and slides it over. “It’s on the house, but don’t tell my boss if you see him, OK? I’ve seen enough guys get screwed over by party boys like that who think it’s cool to have someone pay for all their drinks while they move on to the next fresh piece of meat.”

“Sure, thanks.” Xiao Zhan smiles at the bartender and takes a sip of his drink. He’s rewarded with a shy grin in return and tries not to think about how adorable it looks in contrast to the rest of the man’s effortlessly cool look. “And hey, thanks for looking out for me. You guys must be slammed tonight.”

This provokes a laugh. “You’re welcome, but it’s not just altruism on my part. Maybe I have a thing for rescuing handsome strangers who could do much better.”

He gives Xiao Zhan a blatant once-over, and Xiao Zhan is certain he can _feel_ his brain breaking. “You’re hot, dude. If that guy over there is going to be so fucking oblivious, that’s his loss, right? I’ve been watching you since you got in. What’s your name?”

Fine, maybe it’s just something that all the bartenders say to the sad cases who get stood up here. But what the hell. “I guess you could call me Zhan-er.”

“Nice. I’m Yibo.” There’s a flicker of _something_ in Yibo’s dark eyes, but before Xiao Zhan can get a handle on what it is, Yibo smiles and Xiao Zhan is busy trying not to trip over his feet, it’s so brilliant. “So, listen, I’m not like this with most guys who come in here, but… D’you maybe want to hang out for a bit after I get off my shift? It’s only another hour or so because I’m covering my friend’s ass since I owe him a favour. You look like you deserve a better night out than just watching that jackass get busy with some random dude.”

Xiao Zhan has a list of reasons why this _isn’t_ the best idea. He’s not a charity case, he’s getting old, his cat is going to miss him (that may be a lie — Jian Guo has plenty of attention from him on a regular basis), there’s a documentary on the Han Dynasty he wants to stream, he’s tired… But… it’s a Saturday, and Yu Bin and Xuan Lu have been teasing him about being twenty-eight going on fifty constantly and Yibo’s just so pretty…

“Yeah, I mean yes,” he hears himself say over the din, wincing as it comes out too loud and overenthusiastic. “I, uh. I guess I’ll just wait here then?” Which is, duh, what Yibo would expect him to do. He’s so smooth at this.

Yibo nods, before hurrying off to attend to a customer who wants a complicated-sounding cocktail. 

“You’re Wang Yibo, right?” The customer, a bespectacled man in his forties, looks excited and holds out a few notes. His friend next to him — shorter, with a crew cut — looks equally keen. Xiao Zhan might be missing something here. “Could you um… flair our drinks for us?”

“Of course.”

He might be imagining it, but Xiao Zhan thinks he sees Yibo dart a glance his way, as if he wants to make sure Xiao Zhan is watching. Satisfied that he’s got an appreciative audience, Yibo begins by tossing two napkins onto the bar counter like frisbees. He follows it up by rolling a mixing tin cup down his arm and catching it with his other hand behind his back. Next, he picks up a small jigger and tosses it high into the air so that it spins and catches in the shifting lights from the dance floor. When he snatches it out of the air without looking, Xiao Zhan is embarrassed to hear a gasp leave his mouth. Yibo shakes equal measures of vodka, rum and tequila into a tall cocktail class, before adding an alarming blue syrup and topping everything off with lemonade. Next, he pours two kinds of rum into another glass, juggling the bottles together first until they blur before Xiao Zhan’s dazzled eyes. This gets lots of applause from the patrons surrounding the bar and from the look on Yibo’s face, Xiao Zhan can tell he’s loving the attention. 

“Should I light it on fire?” He asks the crowd watching, as he pours from both bottles into the glass. The unanimous shouts of agreement almost deafen Xiao Zhan, who winces but smiles when Yibo looks at him, a small, private smile of his own on his face. Then it widens into his showman’s grin and he digs into his skin-tight jeans to produce a small Zippo, which he uses to light the drink on fire before covering it with a paper beermat and sliding it over to the two customers, who look as though they’re about to spontaneously combust.

“Enjoy,” Yibo says, his eyes already sliding over to Xiao Zhan, who’s been perched on his stool like some overanxious mother bird for the whole show.

Oh, he’s got it bad. There’s something about the way Yibo’s large hands wrap themselves around the bottles and the way his fingers deftly manoeuvre the various cocktail ingredients into place that transfixes Xiao Zhan. He tells himself that it’s not just because he can imagine how they’d feel on his body. He watches enviously as Yibo prepares a drink for a gaggle of young teens on their first visit to the club and wants to join in when they squeal as he licks away a trail of syrup that’s dripped down his hand. Yibo laughs too, soaking in their adulation, and Xiao Zhan wants to kiss the long line of his throat, wants to leave marks on that pale skin. He’s definitely going to blame this on not having had sex in too long since he’s only just met this guy and his dick has decided to be at permanent attention for Yibo’s performance. Thank heaven he wore his slightly looser jeans tonight. 

An hour and a half passes. Xiao Zhan doesn’t think he’s blinked once during that time. Yibo lights more drinks on fire, juggles bottles and half-filled mixing cups, even balances bottles on his arms and forehead. His hands are in constant motion around his body and Xiao Zhan marvels at the number of times Yibo seems so close to losing his grip or letting a bottle drop but deftly performs some slick gesture to get himself out of trouble. It turns out he’s not the only one watching; a huge crowd has gathered around the bar, collectively ooh-ing at every trick Yibo performs. Xiao Zhan knows it’s unreasonable of him to be jealous, of course, but that doesn’t stop him wishing he was alone with Yibo and wondering just how creative Yibo can get with his hands.

Once Yibo announces he’s going to take one last order, the crowd seems to surge around the bar, and Xiao Zhan finds himself being pressed up hard against the counter. Everyone’s holding out money and yelling drink orders, but Yibo waits until they’ve rearranged themselves into something resembling an orderly fashion before taking an elaborately made-up woman’s order. This somehow involves him setting the tops of two bottles alight and juggling them so fast it looks like he’s holding an actual ring of fire in front of him. The crowd whoops and Yibo’s smug grin deepens. On anyone else, it would be an instant turn-off, but on Yibo, Xiao Zhan finds himself transfixed. Eventually, Yibo extinguishes the flames and pours the woman’s cocktail into a tall glass that he dusts with powdered sugar. A few more customers rush forward, begging for him to take their orders but Yibo holds up his hands.

“Show’s over guys. I’m only here because I’m covering someone else’s shift, OK?” He looks over at Xiao Zhan for a second and Xiao Zhan feels ridiculously proud that Yibo’s even glancing in his direction. “Now, I’m gonna go because someone’s been waiting for me longer than he should have. You know where to find me the next time you want a drink.”

Some people in the crowd protest, but once Yibo starts putting bottles away and cleaning down the counter top, they get the hint and start to drift back to the dance floor. Yibo smiles when he gets to Xiao Zhan’s seat, wiping his hands on a dishcloth. 

“Sorry about that. You wanna get out of here?”

“Gladly,” Xiao Zhan answers. Yibo grins back at him and then _vaults_ over the bar counter in one fluid move that has Xiao Zhan’s mouth hanging open. Where the hell did this guy learn to move like that? Sure, he can see that Yibo is younger, but he didn’t expect to feel like an octogenarian next to him.

“Um.” He says, because up close Yibo is even prettier and he’s temporarily forgotten how to speak. Yibo laughs, delighted at his surprise and leans in, his dark eyes glittering with promise and _damn_ if that isn’t the most blatant invitation. Xiao Zhan licks his lips and leans into Yibo’s personal space, head spinning…

“Lao Xiao!” And that would be Hong Sheng, with his impeccable sense of timing. Xiao Zhan can’t help but grimace. “Lao Xiao, I thought you’d be gone by now!”

Xiao Zhan makes himself look away from Yibo, who’s radiating obvious disapproval and sporting an impressive scowl. “Yes, Hong Laoshi. I was just about to leave, actually. You having fun?”

“Yeah, it’s not too bad here, right?” Hong Sheng is oblivious. He unwraps himself from his dance partner, who nods at Yibo. “Uh, you’re Wang Yibo, right? Thanks for helping Ah Tai and myself out tonight. I appreciate the assist.”

“I’m not doing it again,” Yibo says, and his voice is colder than the winter wind that cuts through Beijing’s streets. “Tai-gege can find someone else to cover his shift next time.”

“Aww, come on, Yibo!” The man named Tai wails, but Yibo is already looking back at Xiao Zhan, his gaze steady. He holds his hand out.

“Let’s find somewhere we can actually have a decent conversation, Zhan-er.”

***

“What was that about earlier?” Xiao Zhan asks, when Yibo has dragged him into a smaller, more intimate bar further down Sanlitun. There are small, cosy booths here which are lit by candles and Yibo squeezes in next to Xiao Zhan so they’re pressed up against each other, Yibo’s denim-clad thigh bleeding warmth into Xiao Zhan’s body. There’s jazz softly playing in the background and the soft hum of conversation everywhere. This is nice, much nicer than The White Tiger. Called A Rabbit Warren, Xiao Zhan is surprised to hear that it’s been in business for over a year, but that makes sense, seeing as how he’s not really into the bar scene any more than he is into the clubbing scene.

They’ve been talking for over an hour, but it’s felt like barely ten minutes since they got here. Xiao Zhan now knows Yibo’s originally from Luoyang, Yibo’s found out that Xiao Zhan’s youth in Chongqing has led to him developing a formidable talent for withstanding spice. They both agree that anyone using dating apps on an actual date is the height of bad manners. And Xiao Zhan realised about half an hour in that he was madly in love with the way Yibo’s laugh sounds, about equal parts teenage boy and demented gargoyle. Or he could just be falling harder for Yibo in general. It’s hard to tell. He’s going to blame the drink. 

“Oh.” Yibo makes a face, leaning over to pour Xiao Zhan some of the mojito from the jug they’ve ordered. “It’s stupid. Remember that favour I said I owed a friend? Tai-gege asked me to take over tonight just so he could ‘rescue’ his friend from a boring date.”

“Me?” Xiao Zhan is offended, but not by the suggestion that the date was boring. It was. Immensely so, but not because of anything _he_ did, for God’s sake. “I was the boring date?”

“As I said, it was a stupid reason; that Hong Sheng dude looks like he’s mostly up his own ass anyway. But I was free tonight and I wasn’t doing anything, y’know? And Tai-gege covered one of my shifts before so I thought I’d come for a while and earn some tips doing tricks at the bar.” Yibo takes a swallow of his drink and Xiao Zhan stares, transfixed by the movement of his Adam’s apple. “Thought I’d have to babysit some nerd who wouldn’t shut up about anime or something.”

The look in his eyes is slyly teasing, but there’s an uncertainty there that blunts the edges of what Yibo is saying. Xiao Zhan snorts. 

“Hey, now, watch what you say. My favourite show is One Piece. I feel like Luffy and I are connected on a very spiritual level.”

There’s a beat while Yibo just stares at him. Xiao Zhan can feel the moment lengthen, become awkward. He’s about to cough and say something about that being a joke but then Yibo mutters something under his breath and yanks on the front of Xiao Zhan’s shirt, kissing the air out of his lungs. 

That is unexpected, to say the least. Xiao Zhan lets himself be kissed for a second before the lust for Yibo that’s been stewing in the pit of his stomach for the better part of the night takes over and he kisses him back, letting himself be crowded against the wall of the booth, Yibo’s long fingers slipping under his shirt and down his pants while his tongue pushes into Xiao Zhan’s mouth. Xiao Zhan tries to give back as good as he gets, but lets himself be overwhelmed by Yibo, drunk on the feeling of being touched and kissed for the first time in much too long.

Finally, Yibo pulls away, his hair coming loose from the messy bun to frame his beautiful face. Xiao Zhan keeps staring, dazed at what just happened.

“Is it because I’m an otaku?” He manages, “Or are you just really into guys who get stood up at bars?”

Yibo laughs loudly. “Shit, no. When you walked in tonight I nearly had a heart attack. The way Tai-gege was talking about things, I thought you were like, some pervert with bad breath. I meant what I said; you’re really hot, Zhan Zhan.” He takes another sip of his drink and blushes, which is adorable. “Like, really hot. You’ve got the cutest smile. And the One Piece thing doesn’t hurt.” 

Xiao Zhan puts his hands over his heart and affects a wounded expression. “How do you know I’m not just a pervert with bad breath and wonky teeth?”

“Yeah,” Yibo shoots another one of those hot-eyed glances at him. “I think I’d better make sure.”

This time, Yibo climbs his way into Xiao Zhan’s lap, straddling him and winding his hands around Xiao Zhan’s neck as they kiss. Dimly, Xiao Zhan is aware that the table gets (loudly) pushed out of position, but none of the glasses fall and Yibo’s lips are even softer than he first thought and his tongue is playing havoc with Xiao Zhan’s ability to form any rational thought. There’s a litheness to Yibo’s body, a strength to his limbs that makes Xiao Zhan wonder if Yibo is a dancer. Certainly he knows how to move his body like one, his hips rocking up against Xiao Zhan’s, leaving him with no doubt that Yibo’s interest in him is genuine. And Yibo surely feels Xiao Zhan’s erection, because he growls with approval and kisses him even harder, forcing Xiao Zhan’s head back so it hits the expensive wooden wall of the booth with a loud thunk.

“Whoops,” Yibo whispers, when they part for air. “Is your head alright?”

Xiao Zhan tells himself that he’s a mature adult who doesn’t stoop to crude innuendos. “I’ve had no complaints.”

Yibo’s face goes blank for a moment before he laughs, a low, gasping sound that Xiao Zhan doesn’t expect. “Come home with me, gege.”

Usually, Xiao Zhan would demur. Say something about being old fashioned and wanting to have a few dates first before skipping straight to the part where they rip each other’s clothes off. That’s what he should do, as the elder, mature adult here.

But Yibo’s lips are kissing a burning trail down his neck and the way he fits in Xiao Zhan’s lap seems so natural and the look in those dark eyes is hungry, and Xiao Zhan knows that same look is mirrored in his own eyes, and it’s been too long since he felt like this about anyone…

“Yes,” he breathes, running his hands down Yibo’s back and cupping the curves of his ass. Yibo squeals, high-pitched and gasping, pushes back against him. Xiao Zhan thinks they probably should get out of here before management has them thrown out. “You sure I’m not going to bore you, Wang Yibo?”

“Fuck those two idiots. You’re worth ten of them.”

“Mmm, I think I’d rather fuck you, sweetheart.” Xiao Zhan says, greatly daring. Yibo laughs again, and the sound of it will keep Xiao Zhan smiling for days to come.

***

They have to make a detour to a nearby garage to get Yibo’s bike — a black, white and orange Ducati that probably costs more than Xiao Zhan makes in a year — and Xiao Zhan nearly has a heart attack when Yibo thrusts an extra helmet at him.

“You sure you know how to control that thing?” He asks doubtfully, pulling the helmet on. It’s not that he doesn’t trust Yibo, it’s just that riding on high-spec motorbikes was not what he expected when he got dressed tonight. But then, _nothing_ about tonight has made any sense. 

“If you’re asking if I know how to ride, I’ll have to demonstrate later. Can we go now?”

“Wait wait wait.” Xiao Zhan holds out his hands and texts a message on his phone before putting it away. “OK, it’s cool.”

“What was that?” Yibo asks, curious.

“I’m just checking in with my friend and letting her know where I am. Just so you know, if you turn out to be a serial killer, my friends will totally report my disappearance.”

Even though he can’t see Yibo’s face as he’s swinging a leg over the bike and wedging himself into place behind him, Xiao Zhan feels the other man’s snort. “Trust me, I’d definitely have left less witnesses at the bar if I was a serial killer.”

“I bet you say that to all the older men you seduce,” Xiao Zhan says, zipping up his jacket and winding his arms around Yibo’s trim waist.

Yibo sniggers again. “Only you, ge.”

Somehow, Xiao Zhan manages to stay on the bike the whole way back to Yibo’s apartment. He clings on to Yibo’s waist and tries not to imagine what will happen when they get there in too much detail. It’s bad enough that they’re pressed so closely together with their clothes still on. He’s not going to let himself get overexcited and start groping Yibo like the depraved pervert he’s supposed to be. 

Not yet, anyway.

Yibo’s as deft on the motorbike as he is behind the bar. He darts around cars with practised ease, handling the throttle of the bike with skillful precision. There’s a moment on a particularly empty stretch of road when he looks behind for a split second.

“Trust me?” He asks, gunning the throttle.

Xiao Zhan’s reply is almost carried away by the wind. “Of course!”

Yibo shows him just how fast the Ducati can go, the bike going from a steady purr to a deafening roar in the space of a few seconds. Xiao Zhan tries his hardest not to scream and holds on to Yibo for dear life, hoping he’s not digging in with his fingers too hard. The city lights flash by him and as frightening as it is, he feels bizarrely safe, knowing that Yibo’s in control of the bike. 

“You can let go now,” Yibo tells him, when they finally pull up to his apartment block. It’s in a much swankier part of town than Xiao Zhan’s own tiny studio. The building itself is covered in dark frosted glass and Xiao Zhan spots a uniformed concierge at the front desk, just as Yibo swoops into the basement parking lot.

“Wow,” Xiao Zhan manages, when he gets his voice back, whistling appreciatively. “Are you going to tell me that working at a bar pays for a place like this?”

Yibo makes a face. “I’ve got wealthy relatives and they left me some money a few years back. The White Tiger is a joint venture with one of my friends. He’s better at the business stuff so he deals with operations. I prefer the bar because I get to serve customers.”

“You like performing, you mean. I saw that look in your eyes just now.” Xiao Zhan hands Yibo’s spare helmet over.

Yibo laughs. “I guess. I was glad you were watching me tonight though.” He reaches out, pulls Xiao Zhan in close for another messy kiss that has him forgetting his name. “I liked having your eyes on me, Zhan Zhan.”

“Keep it up and we’ll be reported for public indecency,” Xiao Zhan mutters, though he’s certain he’s blushing now. 

Luckily, there’s a private elevator to Yibo’s penthouse so they don’t have to deal with any awkward conversations with Yibo’s neighbours. It isn’t so helpful, however, when Yibo presses Xiao Zhan up against the side and leaves a trail of very visible hickeys down his neck as they ascend into the upper reaches of Beijing’s skyline.

It’s getting progressively difficult to think coherently, especially as Yibo drags him through his swanky apartment, with its huge floor-to-ceiling windows that look out onto the city. Xiao Zhan has barely enough time to appreciate the dark leather sofas, monster-sized television set with several gaming consoles and tasteful glass lighting fixtures before Yibo pulls him up another flight of stairs to his bedroom, which is dominated by a huge bed, bizarrely pristine in its white cotton sheets. The rest of the bedroom is spartan, with only a few black and white photographs hanging on the wall.

Unfortunately, that’s all he’s able to take in before Yibo is pawing at his clothes, nearly tearing Xiao Zhan’s shirt off before dropping to his knees in a fluid movement and tugging at the button of his jeans. 

“You going to help me out here or just stare at the ceiling, gege?” 

Something in Xiao Zhan’s brain short-circuits, but he obliges, helping Yibo with taking off his jeans and allowing himself to be pushed down on the bed and straddled. They kiss a few more times, Xiao Zhan all too aware of the fact that Yibo’s still mostly dressed in his leather jacket and ridiculously thin white t-shirt while he’s naked except for his boxer-briefs. 

He knows how to deal with that, at least. He sits up and pushes Yibo’s jacket off his shoulders, throws it somewhere and works on getting rid of the rest of Yibo’s painfully hip clothes. He tongues at the beautiful lines of Yibo’s collarbones, relishing the deep groan this produces. Xiao Zhan sucks a mark into the hollow of Yibo’s throat, loving how this provokes a higher-pitched whine and rewards him with Yibo rocking his hips against him, his cock brushing deliciously against the overheated skin of Xiao Zhan’s belly.

“Don’t… don’t tease me like this,” Yibo moans, his hair coming loose from its tie as Xiao Zhan tugs it free. “You’ve been teasing me all night, Zhan Zhan. Fucking do something about it.”

For a moment, Xiao Zhan forgets how to form words. Yibo’s hair tumbles over his shoulders and he looks… ethereal, unreal in the dim light of the bedroom, illuminated by the cityscape behind him. Fortunately, he’s got enough presence of mind to slide one hand into Yibo’s thick hair and drag him down for another kiss before shifting their weight so he ends up on top of Yibo. This is better. He gets rid of the rest of their clothing, Yibo’s skinny jeans proving to be more challenging than he expects. 

“What the fuck do these say?” He asks, squinting at the English lettering. “Your _what_ is gluten free??”

Yibo snorts. “They were a gag gift from a friend. Can we not get distracted?” 

Fine, fine. Xiao Zhan finally gets them both naked and swears softly under his breath as Yibo undulates beneath him, hips rolling their flushed skin together _just so_. He kisses whatever skin he can reach, intoxicated by the taste of Yibo’s body underneath his tongue and the sounds that Yibo makes as he does so. He drags his tongue along the prominent jut of Yibo’s hipbones, feeling Yibo’s body rise up against him, his cock pressing against Xiao Zhan’s cheek.

“Where do you want me?” He asks Yibo, taking hold of Yibo’s dick and pressing a kiss to the tip. “Do you want my mouth, didi? Do you want to fuck me instead?”

Yibo flushes beautifully, the colour high in his cheeks.

“Next time, maybe. Let me ride you, gege.”

Xiao Zhan gulps. “Whatever you want, Yibo.”

“I want you.” Yibo tells him firmly, then pushes Xiao Zhan back against the headboard of the bed. From a drawer of his bedside table he produces a tube of lube and a strip of condoms. 

Xiao Zhan tells himself that there’s probably no way they’re going to use up that strip tonight. 

_Probably._

“Help me get ready?” Yibo asks, kneeling between Xiao Zhan’s spread legs like some kind of incubus. He shoves the lube into one of Xiao Zhan’s unresisting hands. Xiao Zhan blinks, still too distracted by the sight of Yibo’s cock curved up against his flat belly and his sac hanging full and red between his thighs. He swallows thickly, wanting desperately to find out what Yibo tastes like. Next time — yes, _next time,_ because why the fuck not? — he’s going to let Yibo fuck his mouth rough and good until he has trouble talking the next day. 

With an effort, he looks away, uncaps the lube and squirts a generous amount onto his fingers. 

“Ready?”

Yibo nods, kissing Xiao Zhan and arching his back so Xiao Zhan can more properly appreciate the curve of his ass. Xiao Zhan doesn’t need to be told twice; he’s spent half the night staring at it. He slides his fingers down Yibo’s body, pausing to thumb gently at Yibo’s cockhead before reaching around and pressing his middle finger against the pucker of Yibo’s hole. They share a loaded glance and Yibo nods his head, so Xiao Zhan pushes in.

Heaven, Yibo’s tight. And hot, so very hot. Xiao Zhan fucks him with one finger first, before Yibo whines, pushing back against Xiao Zhan’s hand, demanding more. Xiao Zhan adds another two fingers, marvelling at how Yibo just gets hotter, and how his body relaxes and accepts the intrusion. The wet, sucking sound of Yibo fucking himself on Xiao Zhan’s fingers is loud in the cavernous apartment, and his moans combine with it to make the whole thing sound like an obscene opera.

Yibo bites his lips as Xiao Zhan presses upwards with his fingers, searching for that elusive spot inside Yibo’s body. His lips are so red and wet, Xiao Zhan can’t help himself from leaning forward and kissing him, their tongues tangling to the rhythm of Xiao Zhan’s fingers. Pre-cum spools from Yibo’s dick onto the pristine white sheets and still Xiao Zhan fucks his fingers into Yibo’s heat, watching him come apart with each movement of his fingers.

“Ge… Zhan-ge… don’t make me beg.”

Yibo sounds breathless, his voice shaky and low and Xiao Zhan thinks he’s never going to get over just how debauched Yibo sounds. 

“Sorry, sorry,” he mumbles, pulling his fingers away and reaching for the condom strip. He rips one out of its shiny foil packaging and holds it out. “Help me?”

He doesn’t have to ask twice. Yibo leaps on him and seizes the lube, the look in his eyes slightly wild. He slicks Xiao Zhan up and rolls the condom on, his large hand wrapping itself around Xiao Zhan’s cock and pumping him. It feels so good Xiao Zhan would be quite happy to let Yibo give him a hand job for the rest of the night but Yibo proves to be impressively single-minded about things, lifting himself up and guiding his ass down onto Xiao Zhan’s dick. They both gasp at the tight fit of it, Xiao Zhan’s mind blown away by just how much _tighter_ and _hotter_ Yibo feels from the inside.

“You alright?” Xiao Zhan asks, when Yibo’s eyes slide shut. His hands settle nervously on Yibo’s hips, holding on.

Yibo’s reply is a low hum that sends vibrations through his entire body and makes Xiao Zhan’s cock leap inside him. “You feel so good inside me, Zhan-ge. Better than I hoped.” He starts to move, rolling his hips and taking Xiao Zhan deeper, one hand braced on Xiao Zhan’s chest, the other stroking his erection. Xiao Zhan is mesmerised, his mouth going dry and the sight and sensation of Yibo fucking himself on his dick. 

“I thought… No, I _knew_ you were going to feel so good, gege. I was watching you watching me at the bar, you know. I kept thinking about you watching me touch myself like this, kept thinking about you fucking me in front of a mirror. And then just now on the ride home… _God_ , I was so hard for you. I could feel you pressed up against me, ge. And your lips, they’re just so red and… and…” 

Xiao Zhan doesn’t know how long Yibo goes on for. It seems like forever and not for nearly as long as he’d like. He digs the tips of his fingers into Yibo’s hips, knowing that there will be marks tomorrow, but not very much caring if anyone sees. He tries to match Yibo’s rhythm, holding on for dear life and Yibo cuts his monologue off halfway to swear and bite at his lip, his hand a blur against their bodies. Xiao Zhan is sure he can’t hold on for much longer, especially not when Yibo leans down and kisses him, hot and open-mouthed, their tongues tangling. His hips begin to stutter and the regular motion he’s been trying to keep begins to spiral out of control as he chases oblivion, too wrapped up in the feeling of Yibo surrounding him, all of Yibo’s little gasps and moans and how Yibo tastes on his tongue. Heat curls deep in his balls, tension settling in the base of his spine…

His orgasm takes his breath away when it finally hits, and Xiao Zhan groans loudly as he spends himself deep inside Yibo’s tight heat. He’s barely conscious of Yibo’s guttural curse, but feels the wet warmth of Yibo’s spunk as he comes, painting streaks over Xiao Zhan’s abdomen. Xiao Zhan runs his hands through Yibo’s hair, breathing heavily, brings their foreheads together and finds those soft, full lips again.

It takes a few minutes for either of them to speak. In the silence, Yibo suddenly giggles. 

“You’re so much better than Tian-ge said you’d be.”

“God, I hope so,” Xiao Zhan murmurs, dragging him down for another kiss that turns into another, and another, until he can feel the heat rising in his belly again. Wang Yibo is insatiable, and that’s not a bad thing at all. There’s something to be said for keeping up with youths these days, he supposes.

“Mmm. Why don’t you let me show you how good I am with my hands this time, Zhan Zhan?” Yibo sounds breathless and only slightly evil. “Since you’ve been staring at them all night?”

Xiao Zhan has no objections.

***

In the morning, Hong Sheng kicks his latest conquest out of bed and checks his phone, muttering in surprise.

Xiao Zhan has sent him a message, thanking him for a great night out.

“I thought I ditched him,” he grunts. “What’s he thanking me for?”

Halfway across Beijing, Yibo takes the phone out of Xiao Zhan’s hands and turns it off.

“Focus on me, gege,” he says, rather imperiously. “I’m going to suck you off now.”

And Xiao Zhan thinks maybe asking Hong Sheng out for a date wasn’t the worst idea ever.

**Author's Note:**

> See [here](http://cocktail-pro.com/medias/#video-flair) for more examples of cocktail flaring, if you're not familiar with the term. Usually these bartenders also perform a few magic tricks as part of their act, but I couldn't work it into the fic, so you'll have to use your imagination and picture Yibo doing that on your own ;)
> 
> Oh, and a shout out to Yibo's infamous gluten-free jeans. You know the ones I mean.
> 
> Title of the fic shamelessly stolen from the Scissor Sisters' song.


End file.
